


All Yours

by Flightless_Bird



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crowley gets a tattoo, Flirting, Fluff, Hair-pulling, M/M, Oral Sex, Pet Names, Sexual Tension, Smut, Tattoos, Teasing, Wings, crowley has a thing for praise, of course, sex against a bookshelf, unresolved and then resolved, zira loses his mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:27:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23922328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flightless_Bird/pseuds/Flightless_Bird
Summary: Yes, dear, and I quite like it,” he replied, reaching out to cup Crowley’s cheek and skim his thumb over his inked serpent by his ear.Crowley smiled, amused, and leaned into the touch. He watched Aziraphale retreat his hand to pick up his fork, sipping from his glass. Then Crowley went on, “no, I mean a new one.”Aziraphale choked a little on his champagne.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 152





	All Yours

**Author's Note:**

> I am a sucker for tattoos like this
> 
> If you like this please consider leaving a comment, they make my day. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)

“I gotta tattoo.”

Crowley announced it so casually, that at first, Aziraphale didn’t entirely understand. He smiled sweetly from across the table at the Ritz, glass of champagne in hand. “Yes, dear, and I quite like it,” he replied, reaching out to cup Crowley’s cheek and skim his thumb over his inked serpent by his ear.

Crowley smiled, amused, and leaned into the touch. He watched Aziraphale retreat his hand to pick up his fork, sipping from his glass. Then Crowley went on, “no, I mean a new one.”

Aziraphale choked a little on his champagne.

Crowley’s grin widened as the angel coughed a bit. He’d known it would fluster him, but this was much nicer than he’d pictured. He set his elbow on the table and propped his chin on his hand, just waiting for the inevitable.

“Ah—a new one?” Aziraphale asked, voice slightly hoarse from coughing. Crowley felt a bit bad about that.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale, bless his heart, tried to act casual. “What of?”

“‘S just a word.” Crowley shrugged, glanced away. He could practically feel Aziraphale’s mind turning those words over and over, and he had to bite his lip over a smile.

“Um,” Aziraphale began eloquently, “may I ask what word?”

“You know it.”

That was all the answer he was gonna get and Aziraphale pressed his lips together in a thin line. He looked down at his plate, pushing a piece of cake around. “Where is it?” he asked, voice pitching up a little.

Crowley smirked, eyeing him over his sunglasses. “I don’t wanna ruin the surprise,” he said lightly.

Aziraphale stared like a fool, blue eyes wide. His gaze made a slow path down Crowley’s body and Crowley felt warm from head to toe. He cleared his throat and Aziraphale’s eyes shot back up to his face. He was blushing bright red. “W—well,” he said. “That’s, that’s just, that’s nice.”

Crowley finished his drink.

Yes, yes it was quite nice.

It took Aziraphale one whole day before he mentioned it again. They were lounging on the sofa in his bookshop, Aziraphale reading a book and Crowley scrolling on his phone. Aziraphale perched like usual on the seat and Crowley sprawled, a leg thrown over Aziraphale’s and head against the armrest. It was an unnaturally hot day for the time of year and a crammed bookshop didn’t help. Aziraphale’s jacket and bow tie were off, pale sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Crowley peeked at his undone collar over his phone and felt stupid for how much he wanted to lean in and kiss his neck.

Why was it so damn warm in here?

“You need better air conditioning,” he grumbled.

“I can lower the temperature myself,” Aziraphale replied, absent as he was engrossed in his book.

Crowley pouted. “So why don’t you?”

Now Aziraphale shifted in his seat, looking chagrined. “Ah—no reason.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows. What was he playing at? It was either lower the damn temp or Crowley was gonna have to start stripping— _oh_. _Oh, you cheeky angel_. Sinking lower in his seat, Crowley went back to his phone. “Fine.” Then in a casual motion, he snapped his fingers. He was down to a dark grey T-shirt in a moment.

The effect was instant. Aziraphale lifted his book very slowly to cover his nose, then peered over the top of it. A look of confused disappointment furrowed his brows when he looked over the bare skin of Crowley’s arms, his collarbones. Crowley pretended he didn’t notice. He even yawned, pulling his arms back above his head and stretching lazily. His tee rode up and Aziraphale looked even more confused when there wasn’t a single spot of ink on the strip of skin at Crowley’s waist.

Crowley’s chest filled with fondness. Aziraphale could always just ask outright to see the tattoo, but of course he would go this route. It was really quite endearing. And fun. Crowley arched his back a little in the stretch and Aziraphale suddenly became aware that he was being watched. He buried his face in his book again.

There were no more comments about the temperature.

Ah, now this was the tricky part.

They stumbled back into the shop, wine-drunk and giggling like idiots. Musicals made Aziraphale hopelessly romantic, and Crowley hated them, but indulged his angel. Besides, he’d bought a bottle of wine for the occasion because it always chased away horrid songs about love.

Aziraphale closed the door without touching it, then pushed Crowley against it. He used a little too much force and Crowley gave a hiss as his shoulder blades knocked against the wood. Aziraphale stepped back, blinking blearily. “Oh dear, I’m sorry.”

“You’re good.” Crowley grinned like a lovestruck idiot, hooking his fingers around Aziraphale’s belt loops to reel him back in. Their bodies brushed together and he sighed.

Aziraphale hummed in delight. “I like you,” he told Crowley seriously, running his fingers through his shock of ginger hair.

Fingers rubbed circles into his scalp and Crowley tilted his head back. “I like you too.”

“Oh, good.” Aziraphale nodded like this was very important. “Good, I was hoping you did.”

Laughing, Crowley nuzzled their noses together. “We live together, angel,” he pointed out.

“Mm, yes,” Aziraphale agreed. He stepped forward, between Crowley’s legs, and splayed his hands on his chest. His eyes were half-lidded and drank Crowley in like he’d never seen him before. “I get you all to myself.”

Wine making his limbs loose, Crowley pushed his hips a little into Aziraphale’s and linked his hands behind Aziraphale’s neck. He was so soft. Crowley could just eat him up. “All yours,” he confirmed in a murmur. He pulled Aziraphale in and kissed him, long and slow. He tasted of wine.

Aziraphale gave a weak noise and his teeth caught on Crowley’s bottom lip. His hands dropped to Crowley’s waist, then slid up his sides, around his back. They took Crowley’s shirt and jacket with them, bunching it up around his ribs. Aziraphale glanced down momentarily, then pouted. “I wanna see it,” he complained.

Crowley was lost in how hot Aziraphale’s skin was against his own and it took him a moment. “See what?”

“You know.” Aziraphale whined. “Your tattoo.”

Oh yeah. Crowley chuckled and turned his head, tapping the spot beside his ear. “There y’go.”

“Not that one.”

“But you like that one.”

“Yeah, I suppose...” Aziraphale got predictably distracted, placing tiny kisses to Crowley’s cheek. He pushed Crowley’s glasses up and pressed his lips to the serpent, tongue grazing over the ink. Crowley shuddered, glad he had a door against his back for support. He angled his head to bare his throat and purred appreciatively when Aziraphale kissed down his neck. His breath ghosted over Crowley’s skin, heated. Crowley tangled his fingers in Aziraphale’s hair.

“I love you,” he breathed, not too drunk to feel how his heart ached with it.

Aziraphale was starting to glow, casting a golden light over their skin. “Oh, I love you too,” he said, hushed. “Always, my dearest.”

He kissed Crowley again, and Crowley was almost embarrassed by how eagerly he responded. He could feel his fangs coming out. He wrapped an arm tighter around Aziraphale’s neck, the other tugging at his bow tie. Breath hitching, Aziraphale let it come undone and slide off his collar. Crowley was already moving on to the buttons of his vest and shirt, clumsy. He felt Aziraphale’s hands circling his waist, marveling in the feel of his skin, and then his fingers sank into the sides of Crowley’s jeans. The waistband dipped low, revealing the vee of his hips and then—

Suddenly remembering, Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s wrist. Aziraphale halted at once. His expression was clearer, searching Crowley’s face with concern. Then realization dawned and he flushed from his neck to his ears. He wet his lips, visibly choosing his tone. “Can I—?”

“Not yet,” Crowley decided, with a sly curve to his mouth.

Aziraphale stared with no shame now, but there wasn’t even a drop of ink on the skin he’d bared. He gave Crowley a helpless look. “So then are we just not going to—“ He faltered, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Until you want to show me?”

Crowley pecked his nose, gently prying his hands from his waist to tug up his jeans again. “You waited six thousand years, didn’t you?” he asked, voice low.

Aziraphale’s mouth fell open in apparent horror. “Yes, but.”

“So lemme surprise you a little.” Crowley placed his glasses back on his nose. “ _Indulge_ me.”

He adjusted Aziraphale’s collar and replaced his bow tie with a snap. With a last kiss to his cheek, he slipped out from between him and the door, leaving behind a very flustered angel.

That was a close one.

He would _never_ admit to Aziraphale how hot and bothered he was for the rest of the night.

In the end, it didn’t come down to pity, so much as Crowley growing just as sick of waiting as Aziraphale. Typical.

They were about to pass each other in a particularly narrow space between two bookshelves, Aziraphale wanting to return a book and Crowley heading back toward the kitchen. They both stopped for a second, regarding each other carefully. Then Aziraphale made to turn first, shuffling past Crowley sideways. Crowley did the same, but not fast enough, so they bumped together. The book tumbled out of Aziraphale’s grasp onto the floor. “Oh, let me—“ he stammered.

“Here.” Crowley bent swiftly to pick it up and held it out.

Aziraphale took it as though it would break. “Thank you.”

“No problem, angel.”

Aziraphale started at the old pet name, eyes flicking over Crowley’s face. Crowley gazedback at him, grateful that Aziraphale couldn’t see his eyes behind his glasses, but it didn’t really matter. Aziraphale looked at him and he knew. Crowley’s throat felt tight.

Aziraphale took a deep breath. “Is that—?”

“Maybe,” Crowley cut him off, reaching out to cup Aziraphale’s face. To hell with it. He stepped in close and pressed their mouths together hungrily. Aziraphale’s book dropped out of his grasp onto the floor. Then his hands were on Crowley, flat against his chest and pushing hard. He shoved Crowley up against the bookshelf, sending a wave of heat through him.

“I suppose it’s safe to say,” Aziraphale mumbled between hot kisses, “that you’re done waiting.”

Crowley took him by the hips and arched off the shelves into him. “What d’you think?” he asked breathlessly, as Aziraphale gasped.

“I think I’m going to discorporate,” Aziraphale groaned. He dragged his fingers up over Crowley’s shoulders, pulling his jacket down his arms. It was too slow, it was always too slow, and Crowley vanished his vest and shirt with a wave of his hand.

“Just kiss me,” he managed, and Aziraphale did, softly, deeply. He pushed Crowley’s glasses up onto his head. His teeth grazed over Crowley’s lower lip and Crowley made an embarrassing noise into his mouth.

Aziraphale broke away, looking down to focus on getting Crowley’s jeans undone. They nudged down and just the barest hint of ink appeared, at his right hip. Aziraphale sucked in a breath and paused. “Here?” he asked, eyes flitting up to Crowley’s face.

Crowley gave him a fond half-smile. “Only wanted you to see,” he explained . “No one else.”

Visibly, Aziraphale swallowed. He gave Crowley’s waistband a light tug and Crowley nodded his permission, trying very hard not to beg. Aziraphale’s fingers hooked into the elastic of his briefs and pulled, just enough to bare his hips and keep him unbearably covered.

And it was there. Over the sensitive skin just shy of his hipbone, in a hurried, near-cursive font—Aziraphale’s handwriting.

 _Angel_.

“Oh, my most darling boy,” Aziraphale sighed, and Crowley bit his lip over a rush of need and crushing devotion.

“Angel,” he pleaded aloud, and Aziraphale whined.

And then he sank down to his knees.

To say that Crowley almost imploded was an understatement. He gripped the edge of the shelf behind him, suddenly breathless. “A—Aziraphale,” he stuttered. “You don’t have to.”

“I _want_ to,” Aziraphale replied, sending a look up at Crowley that made his knees weak.

“You—oh _god_ —“ Aziraphale ran his tongue over the tattoo and Crowley was white-knuckling the bookshelf, tipping his head back. He couldn’t look, because the sight of Aziraphale on his knees for him would end him. But he felt his waistband being coaxed lower, lower, down around his thighs.

“You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen,” Aziraphale murmured, breath washing over Crowley and sending him higher.

“‘zira,” he gasped, eyes shut, head back against the shelves.

Aziraphale’s mouth slid over him and Crowley moaned so loud he was half-afraid people passing in the street would hear. Aziraphale spread his fingers around Crowley’s hips, bringing him in further. His tongue traced the length of Crowley’s cock and one of Crowley’s hands shot up of its own accord to grab a shelf at head level. “Fuck,” he growled, and Aziraphale hummed around him, dissolving any thoughts he had.

Then he was slowly pulling off and back down again, moving Crowley’s waist to encourage him to rock forward.

Crowley panted with every slow thrust, holding back to not hurt Aziraphale. Apparently, Aziraphale didn’t care about that because he lunged forward until Crowley’s cock brushed the back of his throat. _Shitshitshitshit_.

He couldn’t stop from bucking forward now to meet Aziraphale’s mouth, burying his hands in that perfect blonde hair. He pulled and Aziraphale’s hands tightened on his waist. “A—angel, ‘m gonna—“ Crowley risked a glance downward. The sight of Aziraphale swallowing around him, hair curling out from between Crowley’s fingers, was more than enough to send him over the edge. Aziraphale didn’t let him pull out before he came, arching his back off the bookshelf, Aziraphale’s name loud and desperate on his tongue. His fangs were out, and then his wings, unfurling out to either side.

When Aziraphale pulled back and opened hazy blue eyes, he gazed up at them as though they were the most beautiful creation he’d ever seen. “You’re beautiful,” he said aloud, pulling Crowley’s clothes back on to a comfortable level, but leaving the inked _angel_ showing. He ran his thumb across it.

Crowley’s chest heaved as he floated dizzily back down to earth. He managed a smirk. “You like it?”

“I’ll have to get one of my own,” Aziraphale decided, and Crowley almost fell over.

“Um,” he said, as Aziraphale kissed up his stomach and then stood in front of him, stroking his hair. “W—what would yours say?”

“Maybe it would be a serpent,” Aziraphale mused, and Crowley could imagine it, jet-black across smooth skin. Then Aziraphale tapped the place over his heart. “Or Anthony.”

No one called him that and Crowley whimpered. “You’re gonna be the death of me, angel.”

“Oh I do hope so, darling.”


End file.
